


Jinxed

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Series: Sterek A-Z Challenge [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Violence, cliffhanger ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-20 19:39:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10669446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: “We have to go!” Stiles insisted, grabbing at Lydia’s arm once she was free. She still looked confused, but she was slowly starting to giggle. “We have to get you out!”“You go. Take Lydia. We’ll be fine.”“No, Der!” Derek was a little surprised at the nickname. Stiles never called him that. “She wants you! And Scott! We have to leave! Now!”





	Jinxed

**Author's Note:**

> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis

Derek hated it when they were human.

Not _human_  human, but of the human variety.

It made it harder for the group to agree they should kill them. Because if someone could be classed as human, no matter how dangerous they were, there was always the ever-boring, “There must be another way!” speech from Scott.

Sure, shove a Beserker in his face and he was fine with killing it, but the second a Kanima showed up, even if it was his worst enemy, he wanted to save it.

True story. Derek still couldn’t believe Jackson hadn’t died.

To be fair, it was probably a good thing because it made it easier for Derek to not want to kill Stiles when he’d been possessed by the Nogitsune. It would’ve been weird if he’d admitted to everyone that of all the bad guys they could kill, a possessed Stiles wasn’t one of them.

For the most part though, Derek was very adamant that dangerous things needed to be put down. Unless they were Stiles. But only Stiles, everyone else was fair game.

But herein lay the problem: they were dealing with a human type of threat, and Scott was extremely unwilling to resort to murdering them.

Derek was more than okay murdering them, because the Mage had killed eight people already, the sheriff was losing his mind trying to cover up the supernatural aspect of the murders, and oh yeah, bad shit usually happened when they listened to Scott.

Like now. With Stiles and Lydia kidnapped. And probably dying.

If Derek were the type of person to use sarcasm, he would slow clap at Scott and talk about what a great job he’d done. But, he wasn’t the type of person to use sarcasm—it had been beaten out of him the day he’d met Stiles—so he instead settled for scowling and being angry the entire drive to the place Deaton had told them to go.

Apparently Mages emitted some weird nature magic that made them easy to track, so he and Scott had an easy time finding them. The others had been left behind to ensure if things went wrong the town wasn’t _completely_  defenceless, but if Scott had just _listened_  to him when he’d _said_  to kill her two weeks ago, they wouldn’t be in this mess.

Derek’s hands clenched the steering wheel more tightly, worry gnawing in the pit of his stomach. If anything had happened to Stiles…

Shit, he couldn’t think about that. He couldn’t think about something happening to Stiles. And he _really_  couldn’t let Scott know how worried he was about Stiles.

He didn’t know they were dating yet. That was the advantage of always being together: they already smelled like one another, so really, there was nothing to discover. It wasn’t like he was going to get intimate with Stiles in the way his horny teenage body wanted—he was still seventeen, Derek was going to wait a few more years, he didn’t want the sheriff to shoot him—so Scott had nothing to smell.

And to be fair, it wasn’t that they were keeping it a _secret_ , per se. It just… hadn’t come up.

“It’s up here,” Scott said, snapping Derek out of his thoughts. He looked at where the other Alpha was pointing and turned. They went down a deserted alley road that led around the back of a large factory. It had a neighbouring warehouse, which also had a neighbouring warehouse, so Derek was fairly certain they were in some kind of industrial district.

Scott was out of the car first, Derek trying not to tear his door off when he exited. Inhaling deeply, he felt both relieved and terrified when he smelled Stiles. It was an old scent, but fresh enough to have been recent. Two hours, at most. Given he’d been missing for almost three, it was the right timeline.

Sharing a look, he and Scott moved quickly and with practised ease, working together seamlessly. Scott broke the lock on the factory door and Derek went in first. He made it to the end of the corridor, making sure it was clear, and Scott passed him at the next corner, moving ahead quickly while Derek hung back.

They played this weird game of leap frog all the way to the heart of the factory they were in. It was when they turned another corner that Derek’s heart thudded in his chest. He could see Stiles and Lydia. They were both sitting in chairs, their wrists bound together behind their backs, ankles tied to the chairlegs. They were facing one another, so when he and Scott began moving forward slowly, Lydia looked up.

She saw them, but she didn’t react to their presence. She just stared at them with a frown on her face, as if recognizing them, but unable to place them.

Then, she leaned forward and whispered—well, loud-whispered, since it carried—to Stiles, “I think they lost at hide and seek.”

Stiles instantly whipped around in his chair, eyes wide and panicked, shaking his head urgently.

Derek and Scott didn’t even have time to share a look before something slammed into the wall beside Derek’s face, exploding into dust.

Wolfsbane.

Luckily Scott hadn’t been close enough to inhale any and Derek had been exhaling when it hit the wall. It made his eyes sting and he was momentarily blinded, but he stumbled away before any permanent damage could be done. He heard Scott roar and shook his head, blinking hard and trying to clear his vision.

By the time he could see again, Scott and the Mage were fighting across the open area Stiles and Lydia were in. He seemed to have things under control, but every time he dodged a spell, it risked hitting the other two.

Derek rushed forward, claws extended, and sliced through the ropes around Stiles’ wrists. He hastily shook them off while Derek freed his legs and then began working on Lydia.

“We have to go!” Stiles insisted, grabbing at Lydia’s arm once she was free. She still looked confused, but she was slowly starting to giggle. “We have to get you out!”

“You go. Take Lydia. We’ll be fine.”

“No, Der!” Derek was a little surprised at the nickname. Stiles never called him that. “She wants you! And Scott! We have to leave! Now!”

“What does she want from us?” Derek asked while shoving the other two towards safety when another spell narrowly missed them all. Once they were around a corner, he stopped, searching Stiles’ face. Lydia looked like she was drunk.

Stiles stared at him, face contorted and turning red, like he was straining to do something. Licking his lips, he exhaled sharply and spoke once more.

“She wants both of you. You’re…” Stiles trailed off for a second and then let out an angry sound.

“Because we’re what?” Derek asked, getting impatient. “Werewolves? Alphas?”

“Yes!” Stiles said, pointing at him with both hands. “Yes, that!”

“He’s really pretty,” Lydia said, and Derek shifted his gaze to look at her, confused, because she was leaning into him and touching his face, scratching at his stubble.

“No, Lyds, stop it.” Stiles grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. She instead shifted her weight into Stiles and giggled, resting her head on his shoulder but keeping her eyes on Derek.

Derek didn’t have time to worry about what was wrong with her. He just told them both to get out and turned to help Scott. Whatever this Mage wanted, he didn’t want her to get it, and Scott was by himself right now.

She had him in some kind of binding spell when Derek appeared. They quickly discovered that she couldn’t use magic on both of them at the same time, and whatever she needed from them, she obviously couldn’t damage them.

It was a much faster battle once they worked together. They overpowered her quickly, Scott found the crystal being used to control her magic, and once it was smashed, the Mage screamed so loudly that she would’ve made Lydia proud.

Then she passed out.

Derek and Scott argued over whether or not to bring her with them now that she was powerless and human once more. Derek wanted to leave her to find her own way home, but Scott insisted that they couldn’t do that.

The only reason he conceded defeat was because a few of the hospitalized patients from her attacks needed cures, and when they called Deaton, he said he needed the crystal shards as well as the Mage to determine what kind of magic she used so he could reverse it—if it was even _possible_  to reverse it.

Derek let Scott carry her out, because he wasn’t going to considering he didn’t even want to bring her back. She didn’t deserve a ride back to town.

They exited the factory to find Stiles’ Jeep beside Derek’s car. Evidently the Mage had forced him to drive up there. Derek wanted to go back with him, but nobody was allowed to drive his car, so he just moved up to Stiles’ driver’s side window while Scott got the Mage into the Camaro.

“We’re going to the clinic. You lead. If anything happens, I want you ahead of us.”

Stiles said nothing, he just nodded, and forced Lydia’s hand away from the gear shift without even looking. Derek frowned at her.

“Is she okay?”

“No,” Stiles admitted.

Derek’s gaze shifted back to him. Now that Stiles was okay, that he was _safe_ , he could relax enough to see that something was very wrong. The set of his jaw, the tenseness of his shoulders, the anger blazing in his eyes.

“Are _you_  okay?” he asked quietly.

Stiles was silent for a moment, then he said, “No.”

Immediately, Derek’s senses went on overdrive. He tried to determine what was wrong by scent and sight alone. Lydia just smelled confused, and a little upset, like she felt that Stiles was being mean to her because he kept taking her by the wrist and pulling her hand away from things in the Jeep.

Stiles just smelled angry and miserable and frustrated. It was hard to pinpoint any one thing, and that made Derek extremely uncomfortable.

“Stiles—”

“Not now,” he insisted, hand tightening around the steering wheel. The other had moved to pull Lydia’s wrist once more when she turned on the windshield wipers. “When we get back.”

Derek wasn’t happy about it, but Stiles made it fairly clear he wasn’t going to discuss it now, because he rolled up his window and drove away. Derek had to speed a little bit to actually catch up to him once the Camaro was back on the road.

“Something’s wrong,” Derek said.

“I heard.” Scott had that weird look on his face that Derek could never decipher between constipated or worried. He was going to guess worried, in this case.

They said nothing for the drive back, following behind the Jeep the whole way. When it pulled into the parking lot of the clinic, Derek and Scott were out of the Camaro before Stiles had even finished unbuckling his seatbelt.

Scott was bringing the unconscious Mage into the building, Deaton holding the door open for him. Derek just watched Stiles help Lydia unbuckle her seatbelt and coax her out of the car. She took his hand when she hit the ground, looking around.

Derek’s frown deepened, but Stiles avoided his gaze and followed after Scott and Deaton. Derek took up the rear, the three of them meeting up with the other two in the back. The Mage had been put down on one of the metal examination tables, and the shards of the crystal were in a tray on Deaton’s desk. He and Scott were bent down over it.

Deaton probably knew what he was looking at. Scott likely didn’t, but he kept nodding as Deaton spoke. Derek ignored them, watching Stiles and Lydia.

The redhead kept trying to reach out for things, but Stiles would stop her and force her hand back to her side. Her other hand was still clutched tightly in his own.

“Well, that makes sense,” Deaton finally said, straightening. When Derek looked back over, the crystal had weird blue steam coming from it and was glowing yellow. Deaton was holding a little pouch in his hand. “She didn’t know what she was doing. She probably didn’t mean to kill anyone, she just wanted someone’s attention.”

Scott gave him a really annoying “told you so!” look, but Derek just crossed his arms and asked Deaton to explain. Apparently the crystal was being used to jinx people, and some of the jinxes inadvertently ended up being fatal. The Mage was new, according to Deaton, so she probably hadn’t realized that the deaths were her fault.

“Stiles said she wanted us,” Derek said, turning to Stiles, who was holding both of Lydia’s hands and hissing quietly at her. “Stiles.”

“What?” he turned to them, the word almost half snapped. He seemed to realize that and winced, but didn’t apologize. “I don’t know why.”

“Could be for the bite,” Scott mused, crossing his arms and shrugging. “She didn’t seem interested in hurting us. She just wanted us contained. Maybe her or someone she knows needs the bite and she was trying to get an Alpha for it.”

“Perhaps,” Deaton agreed. “We can ask her when she wakes up. I’ll need her help to reverse all the jinxes she put on people. I’m assuming she’ll be willing to help once she realizes what she’s done.” Deaton paused, then frowned. “You’ve been awfully quiet over there,” he said to Stiles.

Stiles’ mouth set in a hard line, an annoyed frown on his face.

“You’re jinxed, aren’t you? And so is Lydia.”

“Are they gonna be okay?” Scott asked urgently, overlapping with Derek’s furious, “What do you mean jinxed?!”

“It depends on the severity of what’s been done,” Deaton said, moving forward. Stiles was still holding Lydia’s hands, but she’d started whining and was stamping her feet impatiently, trying to free them from his grasp. “Lydia seems to be acting rather childish.”

“She took what we care for most,” Stiles muttered. “Her mind.”

“What did she take from you? You seem fine,” Scott said, then frowned. “Mostly.”

Something occurred to Derek then.

“Stiles, say my name.”

Stiles let out a huge sigh. “Der.”

“What am I?”

He got a glare for that. “A man.”

“What kind of man?”

“A man who is a wolf.”

“Say Werewolf.”

Stiles stared at him, and started going red in the face, like he was straining to say the word, but incapable of it.

“You’re unable to speak words that are more than one syllable,” Deaton said, evidently catching on to what Derek had been doing. “She took your vocabulary.”

“And I love that so much!” Stiles insisted, looking angry. “What’s the point of big words if I can’t use them?!”

“At least you can still talk. And act your age,” Scott said, eying Lydia, who was giggling and using one of her trapped hands to poke her finger against one of Stiles’ red cheeks.

“Help me,” Stiles whined. “Do you know how hard it is to speak like this? It’s not fun. Fix me. Stop that!” He said this last bit to Lydia, turning to her, annoyed.

“Well, the good news is you aren’t in any danger. The bad news is I won’t be able to fix you until she wakes up.” He motioned the Mage. Derek was glad he’d let Scott talk him into bringing her. “You may as well go home and get some sleep.”

Stiles very emphatically motioned Lydia.

“Ah.” That was all Deaton had to say.

They were all silent for a moment, then Scott sighed. “I’ll take her. Maybe Kira can come by and help me with her.” He glanced at Stiles. “You gonna be okay?”

He gave a sarcastic thumbs up. Scott pressed his lips together, then pulled out his phone to call Kira. Stiles led Lydia back out of the clinic, getting her into the Jeep and buckled in. When Scott climbed into the back to get a ride, Derek stopped Stiles before he disappeared inside as well.

“I’ll wait for you at your place.”

Stiles hesitated, then nodded and climbed into the Jeep.

Derek watched it drive off before heading back inside, walking in on Deaton sitting at his desk, going through a book comprised of weird symbols.

“Are they going to be okay?”

“I’m a little concerned about Lydia, if I’m being honest, but Stiles should be fine. As long as he doesn’t try too hard to say things he can’t, there shouldn’t be any lasting effects.”

Derek scowled, not liking that answer, but he’d take it. As long as Stiles didn’t die like the others. True, not all of them had died, but eight was a large number.

He left without another word, climbing into the Camaro and driving to Stiles’ house. Parking down the street so people wouldn’t see his car in the driveway, he walked the half a block to Stiles’ house. He used the usual entrance—Stiles’ open window, he really needed to shut that—and then sat down in his chair in the dark.

He waited for almost twenty minutes before the sound of the Jeep approaching reached him. It was obvious it was the Jeep, because he heard what sounded like a broken piece of junk held together by duct tape, and that was essentially what the Jeep was.

Stiles exited the Jeep once he’d parked and then unlocked the front door. Derek listened to him shuffle around downstairs for a few minutes before footsteps padded up the stairs. Stiles pushed open his door, turned on the light, and then started so badly Derek actually heard his heart stutter.

“Shit! Turn on the lights when you’re here!”

Derek stood in one fluid motion, moving up to Stiles. The other took a small step back, like he was worried for a second, but when the Werewolf closed the distance, he stood his ground. Derek reached out one hand, palming the side of Stiles’ face and pressing his forehead against the other’s.

“Are you okay?”

Stiles exhaled shakily and shook his head.

“What if he can’t fix me?”

“Deaton will definitely fix you,” Derek said, the words almost a snarl. “You’re gonna be fine, understand? Tomorrow, we’re gonna laugh about this, and you’re going to be back to your usual annoying self, talking a mile a minute.”

Stiles just nodded to that and let out another shaky breath, closing his eyes. Derek could tell how scared he was. It was strange, because they had been through far worse than this before. People had almost died, there had been injuries and kidnappings and all kinds of dangerous situations and while he’d been scared, he’d taken them all in stride. Sometimes he was even cocky about them.

But now? Stiles was _scared_ , like he didn’t think this would ever be fixed. Like he thought he’d be stuck this way forever. And Derek hated that.

He sighed and pulled away, ignoring the way Stiles clung to the front of his shirt, as if not wanting him to leave.

“Come on, let’s get some sleep.” Derek moved to the bed, kicking off his shoes and lying down, still fully clothed.

“But… My dad…” Stiles didn’t seem to know what to say, but not because of his inability to speak.

“I’ll leave before he gets home.” Derek waited, but Stiles didn’t move. Eventually, he raised both eyebrows and looked down at the empty spot beside him.

Rubbing the back of his head, Stiles hesitated, then sighed and shut the bedroom door. He locked it for good measure, then turned off the light. Derek watched him move with ease in the darkness, which was amusing when he considered how clumsy Stiles usually was in the dark. He was used to his room, he supposed.

When he lay down beside him, Derek wrapped his arms around him and dragged him closer, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. Stiles was okay. He was safe.

Sure, he was jinxed, but he would be okay. Deaton would fix this and everything would be back to normal.

Derek stayed motionless like that until he heard Stiles’ breathing even out and his heart rate slow. Then, and _only_  then, did he bend his head down to kiss his forehead.

This kid was going to be the death of him, and he honestly couldn’t find it in him to mind.

**END.**


End file.
